March Hare
by Wouldyoukindly84
Summary: Behind the scenes of the Sander Cohen Kinetoscope picture March Hare. This is from the DLC Buried at Sea. Rated M for mature themes, no spoilers contained within. If you would like to see The March Hare, search it on youtube, since adding a link here is verboden.


"There is both great pain and beauty in passion! The artist extracts both from his subjects, transforms them into what they are meant to be. This is potential! Potential to be more. To become - fulfilled!" - S. Cohen

His arm, strong, firm, fits snugly against the small of her back and from under the lip of the mask, he smiles. She is nervous, trembling in that slight, charming way that newborn lambs do. She has never been on film before, never been in a - what do they call them? Kinetoscope pictures. They're all over Rapture, everyone has seen one at least once in their life down at the bottom of the sea, she had seen a few but never even dreamed about being apart of one.

The music begins, a slow, easy swell and he leads and she stumbles and steps on his toes; his smile does not waver. He just waits until she has her baring and starts with the leading again, slower, easier, body moving like liquid, this man who's face she has never seen. Her movements are not graceful, they lack eloquence that she is sure Mr. Cohen is going for, isn't that what art is? Eloquence and grace?

The artist comes out, mid-song, and pulls the two apart, his voice always holds a note of desperation in it, even when it tries to be soothing and refined. If he could only understand how nervous she is, how much she shakes, she tries to explain but he has no time for her or her excuses. Her partner soothes her, he doesn't speak, only smiles and hands her a flask of something, and she shakes her head, politely declining; she doesn't drink. Finally, the masked man speaks, his voice smooth, calm, liquid charm - this will help her relax, just a little bit, that's all she needs. That's all she does need, is to relax, to show Mr. Cohen that she can be what he wants her to be, and so, metal to her lips, she takes a drink.

The world doesn't start to slip and slide on the first drink, nor on the second, it takes time for the potion to warm up inside of her, it takes more drinks to loosen her up, to light her soul on fire. This has to be something other than liquor, she has had sips of wine before, even brandy, and it had never done this to her before. Her heart flutters, wildly, beating against the ribs of her chest like a bird that is desperate to burst forth to freedom. It's a feeling that at first scares her, perhaps she is reacting badly to the drink, perhaps her heart is going to burst! But her partner takes her up again and begins the dance, and she moves oh so easily, her legs, shadows of his own, no clumsy bumps or steps on toes as they glide around the black and white checkered floor. He spins her and brings her back to him and she smiles so widely under the rim of the mask that she feels as though her face will break from the stretch.

She loves him. This is what love must be. How her heart beats and how his eyes seem so deep and fathomless in the dark shadows of his mask. He'll keep her in his arms, they'll keep moving to the music that is never ending.

Somewhere, in the back of her brain, there is the soft but steady clicking of a camera picking up their motions. That could just be her brain, that could just be the clicking of thoughts inside of her head that come at a million miles a minute. He can hear all of her thoughts, clearly, obviously, and she shows him everything from her life as a little girl, to all the embarrassments and heartaches of growing up - lost loves, new loves, new friends. Everything tumbles out of her brains on to his feet and they keep dancing.

He showers her with rose petals, he pulls them from his pockets, like magic, and they fall down around her head like beginning collapse of heaven, stars and the sky raining down like the end of time. She spins around, fingers reaching up toward his to grab at the sweet smelling rain, only to let them fall through her fingers as well. He bestows his magic upon her and, all these red colored diamonds, stars, burning bright, red hot int he palms of her hands as she tosses them away from herself, all over the floor.

This is what she will give to him, all of heaven and creation scattered about on the floor, for his feet, for his shoes, for him. It is beautiful, the red on white on black, look how it spread out like a carpet, look how they dance upon them like death clouds at night while the sun dies it's slow death behind the horizon, spraying it's blood rays all over the sky; it's swan song.

If only they had more red diamond petals.

Time passes. Not obviously, not clearly. The flask emerges once more and he shares, she shares, and he takes from her lips - their 'I do' kiss. Married under the empty eyes of heaven, in the bright shining light of a sound stage. They have exchanged vows, he has set her on fire and she has brought down the constellations for his delight and they make love in 3/4ths time.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. **ONE**, two, three. **ONE**, two three.

Steady beat, frantic in everything but movement, the heat of passion growing while their feet follow the course. **ONE**, two, three. **ONE**, two three. Her breathing comes fast, his smiling lips part, and **ONE**, two, three. **ONE**, two, three - The climax hits and he robs her of her breath with his fingers. Wrapping around her throat, sinking down into her skin and into her lungs to steal the magic and life from her, to pull it into herself. His lips still smile and her eyes shine up to the empty night sky as he frees her from all burden and soul.

He grants her her wish, for more red diamond petals.

She can feel the world open up within her under the blade of his knife and it starts with a steady trickle, drop by drop, the whole world is birthed with just one drop. It echos in the empty universe, splattering across their sea of black and white, alone, miserably alone and forgotten.

Till the hot summer rains comes.

He pulls more and more from her body, she gives it freely, arching up and opening like a flower in bloom. Exploding like a supernova, spewing forth life, birthing universe after universe, constellations, nebula. Beautiful and perfect sprays of life, branching out, reaching it's crimson fingers over all of eternity with dedication and pain, to give light and power to all it touches. She is Gaia, born from chaos, to house humanity, and from her loins comes her lover, heaven and hell, and from her comes all of creation; sons and daughters, love and betrayal. There is no greater act, there is no greater sacrifice, and there is no remorse in her giving it.

The music ends.

Gaia is released, sacrifice forgotten.

The camera stops rolling.


End file.
